Yu Jian was born Born in 1954 in Yunnan Province. At the age of twenty, Yu Jian began writing his first poems in free verse. He has published over twenty books of poetry and prose and a collection of travel sketches. He has received many poetry prizes in China and other countries. He is a professor of Yunnan University.
谢炯, 诗名炯, 出生在上海。八十年代就读于上海交通大学管理系，1988年留学美国，取得企业管理硕士和法律博士学位。出版诗集《半世纪的旅途》（2015），散文集《蓦然回首》（2016），中文诗集《幸福是，突然找回这样一些东西》（2018），英文翻译诗集《十三片叶子》（2018）。2017年荣获首届德清莫干山国际诗歌节银奖。中文诗作发表在国内《诗刊》《扬子江诗刊》等文学诗刊。英文诗作和翻译作品发表在美国《诗天空》《唇》，《文学交流》等文学诗刊。
Joan Xie was born in Shanghai where she attended Shanghai Jiaotong University. She came to the United States in 1988 to study business and law. Xie's Chinese poetry and essay collections include Half-Century Journey (2015), Looking Back (2016), Nothing Made Me Happier than Finding These Objects (2018) and she is the editor of Thirteen Leaves (2018). In 2017, she received a Silver award at First Moganshan International Poetry Festival in China. Her poems in Chinese appeared in well-known poetry magazines in China, such as Poetry Journal and The Yangtze River Poetry Journal. Her translations appeared in Exchanges Literature Journal, LIPS and Poetry Sky.
埋在挖好的坑里 他们浇着水 姿势正确
它的故乡更南 日不落 此地会下雪
有几年 在昆明市的街心 开着红色的花
穿着黑色橡胶鞋 戴着白手套 锯呀 砍呀
刨呵 运走了那些枯枝 他们执行园林局的命令
街心繁荣 街心荒凉 街心繁荣 街心荒凉
爸爸 我们应该永远关着窗子 别再看下一幕
The tree shouldn't be here. They forced her to come
that was easier than transporting Jews to Auschwitz.
Lying obediently in the truck, covered with red mud from south,
her roots tilted like a madman discharged from an asylum.
Taken by a truck at dawn, now she is buried in a pit already dug.
They poured water on her by the book,
holding a plastic bucket like a great sun,
flipped the round bottom upside down to shake off the water.
Her hometown down south was always sunny, but this place had snow.
Winter was a long prison sentence, but she survived.
For a few years, in the center of Kunming, she bloomed the red flowers.
She even sang a tropical song, one after another, in the darkness of summer.
Some birds liked this plump girl and her generosity,
and considered to build new nests in her. But fate caught her.
She finally died in a cold spell. Died with her, a few homeless wanderers.
They came back again, as seriously as they'd planted her,
Wearing black rubber shoes and white gloves, they saw and chopped,
Plowed away those dead branches, on an order from the Bureau of Parks.
Street prosperity. Street desolation. Street prosperity. Street desolation.
Daddy, we should always shut off the window and never view the next scene.